


Sleepwalker

by PuppyGuppy



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Dream Eater!Riku but barely, M/M, bittersweet boys, post kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyGuppy/pseuds/PuppyGuppy
Summary: Even now, thinking about him took his already shallow breath away. Riku had beenamazing.Sora could think of a thousand words to describe him, but none of them really did his partner any justice. Not then, not now, notever.After the Keyblade War, and everything else, there had been Riku. Patient, compassionate, loyal Riku; his best friend to the very end. He'd waited for Sora, like he always did. Waited for him to come back, then waited even longer for him to figure "it" out. Even though Sora had always known, he just never stopped tothinkabout "it".





	Sleepwalker

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sort of trying my hand and writing multiple different scenarios and emotions. Just to get a feel for what I'm good at and what I'm _not_. Very loosely inspired by "Sleepwalker" by Adam Lambert.
> 
> So this is kinda sad.

Sora didn't fear death. His whole life he'd been playing cat and mouse with the inevitable, and more often than not, he _cheated_. He'd been dead before, so to speak, once or twice. But there was always something bringing him back. Or someone. He either had unfinished business with the universe, and was brought back by sheer fate, or; someone had unfinished business with him, and brought him back by sheer _force_. It had seemed like a never-ending, vicious cycle of emotional whiplash.

 

But all things must come to an end.

  
And, if the heaviness in his bones was anything to go by, it would seem he was finally coming to an end. For the first time, it scared him. Though he'd already been to The Final World, more times than he'd like to remember, and known it's tranquillity first hand, he found himself doubting if he was _ready_. Ready for that nothingness. _Wasn't there still so much to do?_

  
The questions tumbled around his mind, giving him a headache. He found he had little energy or care to try and rid himself of it; the Magic long dulled within him. But it's companionship forever thrummed a warm reminder in his veins of the life he'd lived and the things he'd done. He'd been so powerful once, despite never making the ranking of _Master_. He didn't really mind, not really. It was just a formality, and one that was much better suited for...

  
_Riku._

  
Even now, thinking about him took his already shallow breath away. Riku had been _amazing_. Sora could think of a thousand words to describe him, but none of them really did his partner any justice. Not then, not now, not _ever_. After the Keyblade War, and everything else, there had been Riku. Patient, compassionate, loyal Riku; his best friend to the very end. He'd waited for Sora, like he always did. Waited for him to come back, then waited even longer for him to figure "it" out. Even though Sora had always known, he just never stopped to _think_ about "it".

  
But when he did, Riku had given him the most extraordinary, stupefied look he'd ever seen. It had been a look of _finally_ , a look of an end and a beginning, and those teal eyes had been so open, Sora had seen his own stunned, silly reflection there in the pooling tears, and then the pink. Sora was never prepared for Riku and his _moments_. Or his _pink_. Still hadn't been prepared when they exchanged rings that reflected a Destiny Island sunset, and had tried putting their _so muchness_ into words.

  
He'd been even less prepared for Riku's passing.

  
He remembered it like it had only just happened, despite the twenty-year difference. He remembered holding him, or rather, being _held_ by him. He'd had his head resting on Riku's chest, an ear trained on the fleeting heartbeat he could still hear. He remembered being unable to look at him, those teal eyes murky and gray from a life of seeing far too much. Riku had taken a long time to wake up that morning, a lot longer than usual, and- it wasn't until Sora had gotten up on shaky limbs, set about making their morning tea, that a gentle grip on his wrist made him stop. And _look_.

  
Riku had stared at him, eyes deep and knowing from behind sinking pale lids. But they were also soft, so _soft_ , and Riku was looking at him like he might _crumble_. Sora had tried to smile back, naturally, like he would any other morning. But, as he tried to pull away from Riku's grip, he had felt soothing circles rubbed into his wrist, and the hold hadn't slackened. Riku had still looked at him like _that,_ but then he also looked like he was pleading. The creases in his forehead, the crows' feet around his eyes, all had scrunched up in such a telling way. And Sora had gasped, and fisted the bedsheet beneath their joined hands. Sora had known pain. _So much pain_. Literally had his heart taken, ripped apart, and forced back into his chest. But nothing, _nothing_ compared to saying goodbye to Riku. Nothing in his whole, gut-wrenching life had ever prepared him for _that_.

  
He'd broken once before, but not without Riku to put him back together again. He'd never lived without the constant promise of _Riku._

  
He could still see those eyes on him, flickering a soft, affectionate pink for him just _once more_. Before falling closed. He could still hear that voice, hoarse with age but serene with wisdom, "Take care of yourself, Sora." He could still feel those lips, more familiar than his own, chapped and dry but chaste, the most innocent of kisses they'd ever shared.

  
And then there was the glowing, the ethereal radiation of a body, heart, and soul transcending as one, simultaneously as they should. There were the last, slow beats of Riku's heart song, pulling tenderly on Sora's own heart, before subtly fading away. There was the _link_ still, in the back of his mind; what would become of it, he did not know. He was too scared to follow it. The emptiness left in the room had made Sora's ears ring. He was half a duet. Half a legacy. Half a heart. _What about the nightmares?_

  
Sora couldn't drink two cups of cold tea on his own.

  
_Take care of yourself, Sora._

  
The thoughts in his mind slowly stilled, heart stuck on that one piece of that one memory. He no longer wondered if he was ready. He was _more_ than ready. He'd taken care of himself, and now the real question was if the _world_ was ready? After Riku's death, Sora had turned into himself a bit, but it was to be expected. His smiles were smaller, his voice quieter, but he refused to live any less fully. He tried to talk to as many friends as possible, though he stopped searching for new ones. Stopped traveling all together; it just wasn't the same on his own, not after sixty years of co-piloting. His body also couldn't handle it anymore, if he was honest. Though he'd been fit in his prime, so many world transformations, terrible gummiship landings, and _wars_ had made his bones brittle and muscle sore. Cures and potions could do nothing to combat old age. He'd tried to fill his loneliness with strays, but Sora had always been a tad forgetful even when _young_. Taking care of another being long-term wasn't actually all that good for him. Yet, he always left his home open to travelers, both human and more. If someone needed shelter, Sora was always there with a spare bed and comforting, delicious food.

  
Sometimes, it was those travelers who kept him going. Young explorers, apprentices, free to find their paths in a universe finally balanced. They would always enter the same, eyes full of stars and mouths full of questions. Everyone knew who he was, and he _loved_ it. Sora was kind of good at it, being a celebrity. Riku had always watched on in silent, fond bemusement, as he easily slipped into tales of their past. He could never remember what day of the week it was, but could tell you every painstaking detail about Rapunzel's wedding dress or recite all the lyrics to a song he'd written with Ariel. The fuzziest parts were always around the Keyblade War, but Riku had figured that understandable. He never pried.

  
Sora had never told him. He'd never told _anyone_. Not of their sacrifices, not of their _deaths._ That was his cross to bear, and his alone. Even now, lying still and staring blankly at the ceiling, he didn't regret it. He regretted _nothing_ , and that proved even more how ready he was. Sure, he'd miss his friends, and they would miss him. But, they'd all lived long lives by now. His the longest by _far_. Their hearts were filled with so many memories now, way beyond that dark time. There were new wielders, new apprentices, new worlds and new dangers to be found, but not by him. He'd lived his life, and against all odds, had lived it _well._

  
Shacked up in the eclectic bungalow they'd built on the Play Islands, every possible inch covered in wares and collectibles from journeys both theirs and not. Someone would eventually take over, leave the fire burning and bed made for whoever may need it. And he _hoped_ people would still come, take what they wanted and left what they didn't. If he'd taught the world anything, it was to keep making friends. Stay connected. This place was as much a heart as the one slowing in his chest. It's where he, his friends, his _soul mate_ had spent the later part of their best years.

  
It had been home for so long.

  
He thought that, maybe, he should tell someone. Call up Kairi, say his farewells. She'd tell everyone else that needed to know. But then again, the gummiphone was all the way over at his desk, and everyone would already know, anyways. There's no way they wouldn't feel it. He had a hunch the whole world _would_ feel it. And that kind of thing was better felt suddenly. He knew from experience.

  
And he was _tired._

  
The kind of tired you felt after eating too much of a good roast dinner. It was as if he was just too full to _care_. And his thoughts were sluggish, but cotton-warm. He wanted to look out the window, take in the ocean, but felt he didn't _need_ to. He could tell the sun was setting by the fiery glow in the room, and knew the tide was growing by the ever-encroaching sound through the window. He didn't need to see it because he already could, behind saggy lids. The crown on his neck felt heavy, like it was dragging him further into the bed, but Sora knew how to pick his battles by now. This was one he wouldn't win, and the bed just felt so _nice._ There was a taste on the back of his tongue, where saliva had started to pool. It tingled, and it reminded him of overly ripe Paopu Fruit, like the one he'd shared with Riku.

  
He tried to hum, a part of his long un-played _Sound Idea_. But it petered off, unfinished, on a small inhale.

  
He was falling, or maybe just floating horizontally, giving into the persistent tug of sleep. But this ran deeper than sleep, and somewhere, as a scattered thought, he knew he was being pulled beyond the plane of dreams. There was red, and maybe a nightmare, but he hadn't had a single one of _those_ since Riku had died, but then there was pink, and a last thought he wouldn't remember.

 

  
~//~

 

  
Wind. A breeze tickling the hair over his face, and a very soft, twinkling sound woke him up. He'd been sleeping. Sleeping really, really well. He didn't want it to end, and for a few seconds, he battled with himself in hopes of re-succumbing to the warm haze of the in-between. But his brain was now up, so there was really little hope of falling back asleep.

  
Still, he refused to open his eyes, deciding to save that for last. First, he stretched- big and loud, the kind with arms thrown over his head and popping joints. It felt so good he _moaned._ It shot tingles all through his body, wriggling the feeling out into his fingers and toes. Then he sniffed, face scrunching up as he yawned on crisp, cool air. Then he laid there, content and comfortable, for just a few more seconds. It was the best he'd felt in _ages_.

  
" _Sora._ "

  
His eyes snapped open, and he was suddenly blinded by light. There, as if carried by the wind, he'd heard the softest of whispers. His heart was _racing_ , strong and sure. He had to blink a few times to clear the spots from his eyes, until he could clearly focus. The sky was crystal clear above him, soft clouds rolling lazily by. He could see the wind now whirling through his hair. Hair no longer the color of spilled _pepper_.

  
Gasping, Sora shot up, quickly examining himself where he sat. Where leather-tanned skin used to be was now soft, sun-kissed flesh. Not a wrinkle in sight. He reached up with trembling hands, fingered through bouncy chocolate locks, and reveled in how they easily fell back into their gravity-defying places. He was wearing an outfit he had long since worn out, eyeing the bittersweet pattern of blues and stars. It had been his _favorite_ out of the form changes. He was breathing heavy by the time he looked at the ground beneath him, figuring out just where exactly his butt was sitting.

  
The water was still rippling from his movements, but it did little to obscure his own reflection looking back at him. His eyes were so wide, so _blue_. And his face, so round, so full, it was how he'd looked at his _best_. It's how he'd looked a lifetime ago, wild and overflowing with realized _love_. In spite of himself, he was smiling, albeit still shaken. He knew this place, and he knew this body. Though his heart was settling with the conclusion, he was hit with the overwhelming urge to cry, sitting there and staring at himself.

  
"Sora."

  
Sora _stilled_. Nothing moved, save for the wind in his hair and the clouds above. His heart couldn't figure out how to beat, his thoughts frozen, and he could have sworn even the blood in his veins ceased to flow. For a long, stretched out minute, he couldn't tare his eyes away from the watery mirror. But then his heart _thumped_ , a beat that sent ripples out from his form, and he slowly lifted his gaze from his distorted reflection. Another audible beat, the beginnings of a song, and Sora still couldn't breathe.

  
Not with his _most precious person_ standing a mere fifteen feet away from him.

  
Riku looked _magnificent,_ and he looked like he knew that, too. He wasn't the Riku he last remembered, but he was Riku all the same. Youthful, and wearing something that reminded Sora of their Mark of Mastery exam, but not quite as bright. His hair was long, but only long enough to have pulled back into some kind of bun, bangs messily falling into radiant teal eyes. They were as clear as this world. He was grinning, lopsided and _dazzling_. But he also had an eyebrow raised, and one steady, strong hand stretched out before him. It was something so familiar, Sora felt almost _sick_ from the implications and sentiment of it all.

  
Ever the cocky bastard.

  
It wasn't until Riku tilted his head and softened his look into something akin to _come hither_ that Sora realized he'd been staring. But how could he not? He hadn't seen Riku for _twenty years!_

  
He shook his head, and then he grinned, wobbly and wet. He was laughing before he could stop himself. He felt so _light_ , so _free_ , pushing himself to stand on legs that no longer ached to numbness. Though the ground should have soaked his clothes, he was as dry as ever, and shook his hair simply out of teenage-created habit. His pulse was quick but steady, blood now singing with his song; the water between them vibrated, and only then did it click that Riku's heart was probably singing, too.  


  
Riku was still standing there, as if his body could never tire, palm open and welcoming to his _Dearly Beloved_ , and Sora felt his cheeks darken in a way they hadn't in years. He felt unbelievably shy, for whatever reason, like they were stumbling their way into a relationship all over again. Which was ridiculous, because they had been pretty much _married_ for most of their lives. Still, he couldn't help the hesitance in his steps as he reached out and firmly took that hand, threading fingers together. Maybe it was because he knew, _here_ , he could keep no secrets from Riku. And he'd have to tell Riku of his sacrifice, and Riku had loved him so deeply, so _fiercely_ , it had always kind of frightened him.

  
But for now, he gasped, as he was pulled swiftly and gently into Riku's chest. They were poised, as if ready to dance, one pair of clasped hands held outward; he could feel Riku's hand on his hip, steady and warm, and he put his own hand right where it belonged- over Riku's heart. It was the closest, most intimate Sora had been with anyone in so, _so_ long. And it was with Riku, _his Riku_.

  
He was trembling. And crying. And _giggling._ He felt like such a mess, completely overwhelmed and blown open, every last feeling pouring out of him at _once._ It was more emotion than his twenty-something-year-old body could handle, considering he had a lifetime and _then some_ of memories and feelings in his heart. There was a pair of lips to his temple, plush and moist, a kiss. And then words murmured against his hair.

  
"Sora, _Sora_ , it's okay. I'm here, you're _home_."

  
Quite frankly, it didn't help. But it got Sora to pay attention to something other than _everything_. And he sniffled, chocked on a sob, then looked up at Riku, so close and so _real_. And Riku was looking at him like he was seeing the sun for the first time, glowing and pleased, and his eyes were squinted just so, shimmering with tears and pink. _His_ pink, and _his_ smile.

  
Sora spluttered, then scoffed, and formed a tiny fist with the hand resting over Riku's heart. He punched him, _tenderly_ , with absolutely no malice. Riku pulled back, but only a little, eyes wide in confused amusement.

  
"You jerk. Even _death_ looks good on you."

  
Through it all, Sora was _pouting_. And Riku had to throw his head back, unable to contain his spontaneous laughter at being so called out, and Sora being so _Sora_.

  
For a few minutes, Sora joined in with him, and they both giggled against each other, Sora's tears quickly drying. But the world around them continued to laugh, faint echoes bouncing off invisible walls and sending the floor into glittery ripples. This close, the complementing halves of their song could be heard mixing together, the strings palpable beneath their fingertips. Riku was looking at him again, and this time, Sora could see a feeling he had come to know very, very well. He could see the ache, the loneliness, and could hear it in his next words, because he'd felt it, too. Every last bit of it.

  
"I _missed_ you." _I love you_.

  
Sora knew he didn't need to say it back. It went without saying. So he just hugged Riku, nice and tight, and fit himself right where he used to; his head against his chest, ear against his heart. He didn't close his eyes though, not yet. He'd be ready eventually. Maybe. And then he felt Riku's cheek in his hair, grounding and comforting, and he realized they could stay like this. _Forever_. They had nowhere else to go, no one else to see, no war to win. It was just them, and this world now theirs. _Nothing_ else mattered but Riku.

  
Together, eyes wide shut, they fell into the sound.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not written here is an idea I had that maybe, after death, Riku could still prevent Sora from having nightmares. But, a side-effect of it would be that Sora would end up sleep walking, body trying to follow Riku's _pull._ I may or may not write something separate with that in mind.


End file.
